


Get My Good Side

by moonbehindmountain



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy 7, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Smut, Top Tseng (Compilation of FFVII), rufus shinra photoshoot, tseng and rufus have responsibilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbehindmountain/pseuds/moonbehindmountain
Summary: Rufus Shinra, new to his role as President of Shinra Electric Power Company, has to keep his image up. Photoshoots, phone calls, bookers...it's all part of the job. But, who does he call when he's lonely? And where can he go?
Relationships: Rufus Shinra & Tseng, Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Get My Good Side

“Standby, aaaand alright, first pose!” The camera snapped in succession as Rufus Shinra attempted a smizey leanback, tied tugged down suggestively, his usual button-down half open to reveal his chest. He had his gun pressed against his chest in a leather holster. The clicking stopped as the photographer examined the shots. He seemed unsatisfied in a way that only artists looked unsatisfied. Almost a disgust with his own work. He then whispered something to his director who belted out, “Try something else, sir maybe a lean-forward! No wait...Nina! Get the dog,” the director snapped her fingers as a nervous-looking, frail young woman disappeared behind a door and then re-emerged, dragging a snapping, growling, foamy-mouthed Darkstar from offset. The woman squealed in fear as she held the chain leash out to evade his attacks.

“D, heel!” Rufus commanded, whistling, then motioning with his fingers for Darkstar to come to his side. The dog did, a suspicious look in its eyes, growling softly, as it glared at the poor young intern and padded over. He retrieved one of D’s treats from his pocket and tossed it to him, his death-grip jaw snapping as he chewed. The crew looked on with a bit of bewilderment as the monstrous animal seemed to turn comically docile in the presence of his commander, sticking his sniffing snout in Rufus’ pocket in search of more food. 

“Alright, alright, I think we’ve got something here,” the director clapped a hand on the photographer’s back and adjusted Rufus’ pose, propping the placement of his feet, his fingers through his hair, demonstrating the posture. Rufus tried to maintain professionalism, but there was nothing he’d rather do right now than retort with smug sarcasm and take D for a walk in the Shinra rooftop garden. After several more attempts at capturing, Rufus cracked open a bottle of water and took a swig. He didn’t realize this was going to be so much work. He was already three hours in, counting the fitting, the briefing...and this was just the first of it. 

There would be much more identity management to come in order to secure himself as a competent leader to the public. If he’d learned anything from his father, it was that these types of publicity stunts were just as important as the mandates he’d sign and the progress he’d make. After the death of his father, he had an incomprehensible amount of work to do, the most important being maintaining the new face of Shinra. And more than anything, he needed people to trust him.

He was trying, he really trying, to keep to what the booker had said this agency wanted - demure but bold, unbridled power, eyes that conveyed wisdom but not so much that it came off as cocky. He wasn’t a stranger to being in front of the camera - he’d done shoots like these dozens of times growing up, not to mention the annoying flashes of paparazzi that seemed to follow him carside every time he just wanted to leave HQ for a quick drink. He inhaled with a subdued anxiety, the white lights hot against his skin, as he ran his fingers across D’s velvety fur head. 

“Let’s take a break,” Rufus heard his booker yell from the other side of the room. “I think you’ve gotten your shot for the first session.” 

The director seemed to know that they ought to comply despite a grimace on their face that indicated that they wanted to continue. 

“Alright, everyone, seven minutes then we’re back,” the director said while simultaneously swiping through the photographs while the photographer stood by, hands on hips. At the director’s words, the crew relaxed, swinging and stretching arms, taking turns approaching the catering table that featured a coffee bar and breakfast pastries, some even adorned with edible flowers. Rufus unbuckled the gun holster and hung it on the coat rack side of set. D licked his hand curiously as a makeup artist approached, not phased by D’s warning snarls, and dabbing his forehead with a thin, tissue-like paper and reapplying lip product. As Rufus watched on, seeing his booker negotiate with the director wondered if he was even there...even real. Everyone, even the woman right in front of him now dusting his cheeks with a rose-scented white powder, seemed to cope with his presence by maintaining a fearful, reluctant distance. 

“What’s your name?” Rufus questioned the makeup artist. 

“Selena, sir,” she said, a slight shake to her voice despite her attempt to maintain composure. 

“Selena…” Rufus said softly. “Pretty name.” 

“T-thank you, sir.” 

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course, sir,” she remarked, her dark eyebrows twitching in a nervous confusion as she then took a spoolie to his eyelashes. “P-please look up, sir. So that I can apply the mascara.” 

Rufus obeyed. 

“Does Shinra...does it scare you?”

Selena held a steady hand as she applied the makeup with a comfortable professionalism, her lips pressed together in concentration. She suddenly seemed to grow emboldened. 

“No sir. In fact, I’m grateful for it. The progress Shinra has made has allowed me and my family to live comfortably. I wouldn’t be here today, living out my dream, if it weren’t for Shinra.”   
_Typical topsider answer_ , Rufus thought, at first with a bitterness. But after truly listening to the words, he felt a certain pity for the girl in front of him. She was unaware of the true cost of her “dream” as she had called it. But what more could she do but play the game that’d been dealt to her? That’s what they were all doing here...trying to survive in the only ways they knew how. In a way it reminded him of what his responsibility now meant. His people had been shaken by the terrorist attacks. And now there was the problem of “the experiment.” He alone had to do what he must to keep the public under his reign. At any cost. Weakness, as he’d learned, wasn’t useful in a world that wasn’t even safe from itself. _At any cost_. 

“Remember those words, Selena. But also remember that at any moment, that could all be taken away.”

The girl pulled away slowly and tucked her tools into a pocket on the front of her apron. Rufus noticed as the apron pulled tight against her that she had a slight bump to her belly, indicative of pregnancy. 

“I’m more than aware, sir. Most of us, particularly those of us who’ve come from the slums, are.” She then bowed in a ritualistic pleasantry. “Thank you for your hard work,” then retreated to the dressing rooms. Rufus admired her courage quietly, a soft laugh of surprise through his nostrils. He now realized she wasn’t maintaining her distance out of fear, but probably an anger...a contempt...maybe even a disgust. 

_ But I’m not my father.  _ His internal dialogue seemed to combat the intrusive thought that maybe he wasn’t all that ready to lead. Maybe...maybe things would end up just as bad. But no,  _ I’m better than that. _

He reached into his pocket pulling out his phone. No new texts. 74 email notifications though. 

He opened the messaging app and began typing.

_ I want to talk to you _ . Send.

….

_ “I thought you were busy today.” _

_ Never too busy for a glass of wine. _

…

_ “It’s 11AM.” _

_ Fine then, coffee. _

_ … _

_ “The others are here.” _

_ You’re their commander, right? Find something for them to do. _

_ … _

_ “We’re in a meeting.” _

_ Texting during a meeting? That’s unlike you.  _

…

_ … _

_ “The meeting is regarding safety protocol measures. For you. We’re on break.” _

_ … _

Rufus inhaled, scratching at his chin. Always business.

_ I was kidding. _

_... _

_ “When’s the shoot over?” _

_ I guess when I say it’s over. Not really sure. _

_ … _

_ “Well then. Come by. After.” _

_ Should I bring stuff? Condoms? _

…

_ Again, kidding.  _

...

No response.

…

_ I know it was just that one time. _

He wasn’t quite sure if he was kidding, waiting for his phone to vibrate with a hopeful anxiety after three unanswered messages. It did. The phone lit up with:

_ “Break’s over. Use Code 7856 for the door. Don’t want your key card flagged at my security panel.” _

Rufus unlocked the phone and typed back.

_ A code? If you’re afraid of Reno gossiping, just tell him it was for business. _

_ … _

_ “Sure. He’d believe that.” _

Rufus hesitantly typed the words out on the screen, his heart racing,

_ I miss you.  _

But he didn’t get the chance to press send as his booker approached him with a cup of coffee in hand. Rufus locked his phone, pocketed it, and then declined the drink with a raised hand. 

“Thanks, but I’ll have one later.” 

\---

Tseng had him pressed under his body, Rufus’ arms above his head on Tseng’s bed, as he kissed him with a ferocity that was surprising and electric. Tseng kissed his neck as Rufus hummed, pressing his thighs against Tseng’s body, clinging to him. They didn’t say anything. They never usually did. Tseng’s hair had grown longer recently, Rufus ran his fingers through it as Tseng continued his nipping at his neck. He wondered if there was any significance to it, but wandering thoughts were cut off by the sexual sensation of Tseng’s tongue running soft against his nipples, kissing his abdominals, his nose brushing against his skin, his eyes closed, enraptured in the moment. 

Rufus let out a noise of satisfaction at the sensation of Tseng sucking his cock, tension at his erection and what felt like deep in the bones of his thighs. He just let him do this. Let him pleasure him. Just for a moment to be powerless to everything but a man he trusted and who consensually enjoyed his body. Tseng was skillful at it, too. Every lick, every movement was methodical and more than likely researched beforehand. Rufus groaned with a sexual frustration, his thighs now shaking as his body crested, rising closer to the peak of orgasm. As he came, breathless and back arched, hands clenching at Tseng’s sheets. Tseng quickly swallowed, wiping at the corners of his mouth with his thumb and then retreated to the restroom without so much as a word, only a single glance upwards, glinting with a knowing flirtation. Rufus heard him wash his hands, then drink a glass of water. Rufus watched as he emerged, tugging his gloves back onto his hands and tucking his shirt in. 

“You’re going back to work?” Rufus’ words came out more pleading than he’d expected, leaning up against Tseng’s bedroom door frame after dressing. He was now incredibly tired, after the shoot and now after the recession of the heat of his orgasm. 

“There’s lots to be done,” Tseng said, gathering his hair up in his characteristic ponytail and tightening the band with a tug and adjusting his tie in the bedroom mirror. 

“You can’t spare a half hour? Just a minute more?” Rufus...he just wanted…

“Maybe tomorrow.” 

“Why not now?” Rufus said, his voice cold and indignant. He held his hand out. “Give me your phone, I’ll give the command to the others to take the day off.” 

Tseng pressed his fingers to his forehead. This man could be so incredibly obstinate. 

“That only makes more work for us later on.” 

“Fine, then,” Rufus said icily, pushing off the wall. He laid on Tseng’s bed with a creak and tucked his legs beneath the covers. He yawned as he spoke, “I’ll be here when you get home.”

“Sir…”

“I’m tired.”

Tseng inhaled, exhaled with irritation. But, at the very least, he knew Rufus would stay safe here. 

“I know you liked it,” Rufus teased, settling deeper under the covers. “And this way we can do it again later. But me to you.” 

Tseng knew that it was moments like these that they were both allowed brief moments of reprieve. Reprieve from responsibility, from duty and burden and the cold indiscretion of the outside world. He desperately enjoyed them. And, for some reason, when they kissed, when they pleasured one another, he clung to each encounter as if it was their last together. The prospect of leaving for work again had him feeling, for once, lacking in an urgency, and replaced that emotion with a desire to relinquish it all for another fleeting moment with this man. To draw nearer. 

“I-I’ll miss you,” Tseng muttered. 

“Hmph,” Rufus huffed with a smile.

Tseng shifted uncomfortably at the reaction, unsure of what it meant.

“We’ve got an image to maintain, Tseng. Didn’t know the Turks were going soft. Might have to enact some discipline for the department. You know, being President now and all that.” 

“I’ll be leaving now,” Tseng insisted, his face burning at Rufus’ words. He was so childish sometimes.

“Mm,” Rufus hummed. The door closed with a soft click and Rufus heard Tseng slip his shoes on and exit the apartment. Only when he knew he was gone did he whisper back,

“I’ll miss you too,” before drifting to a place where his mind was finally at peace. 

  
  



End file.
